'Emil and the Three Twins' by Erich Kastner

Emil and the three twins. Three Twins Yes, you read that correctly. Emil Tischbein has another adventure with his old friends the Professor, Gustav and Little Tuesday - this time by the sea. Of course, the detectives couldn't have an ordinary seaside holiday like other people - and when they become entangled with the mystery of the three acrobat twins and the wicked Herr Anders, it looks as if it's going to turn into a most extraordinary time for them all!

MY THOUGHTS:  

This is a quirky plot to match its quirky, self-contradictory title. It's clear this story will be slightly left of field from the moment Kastner gives two illustrated prefaces - one for readers of Emil and the Detectives and the other for fresh readers. He informs us former that Emil is 'still content to be the same excellent young fellow,' hoping to earn enough money so his mother can quit working. But this time, Kastner introduces a spanner in the works.

Sergeant Jeschke, now P.I. Jeschke, asks for Emil's blessing to propose to his mother. The sudden prospect of a new stepfather is a real curveball for Emil, who isn't okay with the idea, but generously hates to make waves. It takes some sage perspective from his wise grandmother for Emil's headspace to catch up with his outer compliance. (I love how she counsels Emil to consider his thumbs-up as an investment into his beloved mother's future, for ten years down the track, Emil may get married, and a young wife plus a middle-aged mother don't mix well beneath the same roof. She says she's tried both positions over the years, and knows. Therefore, holding his peace is essentially an investment into Emil's own future too.)

Meanwhile, Emil, Gustav, little Tuesday and Cousin Pony have all been invited to spend part of their summer holidays at the Professor's parents' beach house. At the seaside town, they come across the Three Byrons, a trio of circus acrobats comprising a father and two sons. The boys decide to make a charitable protest when the rumor reaches them that Dad Byron intends to cast off young Jackie, who is growing far bigger and bulkier than his brother, Mackie, because it's affecting their act. 

I enjoy reading about these German lads from the 1930s discussing philosophers such as Goethe. They expound on whether nature really endows all children with enough raw material to bloom like cabbage roses, or whether outside intervention from educational institutions is necessary to draw it out of them. During our homeschooling years, I used to come across both points of view, loud and clear. Perhaps Herr Haberland, the Professor's father, expresses best why the waters are still so murky.

'It's confoundedly hard training children either too much or too little, and the problem is different with every child. One develops his inherent abilities smoothly and another has to have them dragged out of him with a pair of forceps or they'd never come to light at all.'  

Hear hear, every homeschooling philosopher who pushes one particular method ought to take the message of this simple paragraph on board. 

Another highlight is seeing Grandmother and her two grandkids, Emil and Pony, view the sea for the first time. Cosmopolitan Pony sees it as, 'An invisible shop assistant unrolling bright silk on an endless counter.' Although the boys all laugh her down, I like her analogy. 

It's interesting how characters show up the attitudes and habits of their times. For example, Emil throws his sandwich wrapping out of the train window, to watch it blow against the shrubs along the track. Now this boy is super conscientious in all respects, so his action here indicates that being a litterbug simply wasn't a thing in the 1930s. Nobody ever gave it a passing thought.  

Some advice still holds true. One of Kastner's personal hobbies is to catch public transport to unfamiliar locations in his own city and just walk around. It sounds like a cheap and doable creativity and productivity hack for the 1930s and the 2020s alike. 

Overall, I consider this to be another gem from almost a century ago which should be more widely read by the age group who was its target audience back in its day. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 

'Pollyanna and the Secret Mission' by Elizabeth Borton

MY THOUGHTS:

 This is the final novel in the chronicles of Pollyanna's married life. She and Jimmy are empty-nesters about to commence a second-honeymoon phase of their lives, for Junior and Judy are both married and Ruth is off to college. Pollyanna is about to accompany Jimmy to Mexico in his roving job as a freelance consulting engineer. He's been hired by the Mexican government for some water storage and reclamation projects. Meanwhile Pollyanna is glad to catch up with their old friends, the Morenos.

I expected the title would refer to some heartfelt, meddlesome project of Pollyanna's own devising, but I was wrong. Instead, we're thrown into top secret, espionage, FBI sort of business, and even the Pendletons don't realize what's going on. It reminds me of the old, 'Get Smart' sitcom, because the post-war era feels similar. The 'secret mission' doesn't come to light until way near the end of the book. 

The 1951 publication date is evident all through, in recipes, household tips and outdated attitudes. Judy proudly serves her mother a jellied salad, a retro dish indeed. And when Judy's husband, Ron, starts washing the dishes, his wife and mother-in-law 'stop to giggle, as they realize what a pampered and superior feeling it gives women to hear a well-meaning man blunder around in the feminine world!' I think Borton considers herself forward thinking, but such lines indicates she's a product of her decade.

This time around, she hasn't done too bad a job of picking up threads other authors have left dangling for her. Pollyanna's son-in-law, Ronald Keith, was Margaret Piper Chalmers' brainchild, but Borton expands his character with some interesting developments. But sadly, the plot is a bit convoluted with characters that are difficult to feel empathy for.

Newcomers in this story include Anna Robesky, a graceful young blonde who claims to be writing a novel; Santiago Leal, a talented but abrasive scuptor; and Dr Silvia Godinez, a clever but dowdy academic. We also have Margie and Jessie, a pair of young cousins who work in beauty parlors and try hard to convince clients to consider nail extensions. And there is Jimmy's assistant, a young Irishman named Johnny Murphy, along with a grown-up Anita Moreno, who was a little girl like Ruth in Pollyanna's Castle in Mexico. If any of these characters spell danger, accidentally or otherwise, the Pendletons had best beware, for stakes are a lot higher than we find in other Glad Books. 

Overall, it's been like a game of Chinese Whisper between these authors. A broad view may appear seamless to some readers, but taking a step back reveals that in some controversial matters, Pollyanna's attitude has taken a total U-turn. Like the frog in the boiling pot, the heat may have been increased slowly enough that over time, many readers may not have noticed.

For example, Borton's Pollyanna tells her daughter, Ruth, that she wants her to have a solid profession behind her before she ever thinks of marriage. This totally contradicts Harriet Lummis Smith's Pollyanna, who was a blinkered advocate for stay-at-home moms to the extent of locking horns with Mildred Richards, the gift-shop proprietor in Pollyanna's Jewels. Although Borton's Pollyanna gives lip service to changing times, I tend to think it's more to do with two separate authors having opposing viewpoints on a hot topic. 

Borton puts this speech in the mouth of another character, Dr Urbina.

'Any life which applies rigid restrictions on a woman's natural interest in new things and processes dulls her mind. Women are sensitive enough to resist this. The first years of marriage usually do nothing but accustom a woman to living in a restricted field. Her general interest in people must now be confined to one man. Her life is circumscribed by four walls. She conforms to letting her husband put more and more chains on her and narrow her activities more and more to attentions to a few persons, with himself as hub and a few family members and friends as spokes of the wheel. The bride accepts all this because she is in love... but when the lustre wears off and she finds herself enclosed within a narrow sphere of repetitive duties, and of association almost entirely with young children, it is too late to strike out for any change from her routine.' 

Although Borton's Pollyanna is first to cheer this sentiment, Smith's Pollyanna would have heatedly replied that the home canvas is broader and full of far more novelty than many people give it credit for, and that those precious years with kids are fleeting and deserve total focus. I can't help wondering if Borton knew she was undermining Smith and set out intending to do just that. 

Sadly, extended family still don't get a mention. Anyone wondering whatever became of Aunt Polly, Uncle John and Aunt Ruth, Sadie and Jamie, will be disappointed. I can't help thinking the latter Glad Book authors have let down their fans by not at least giving a few lines of closure for these folk who played such huge roles in Pollyanna's and Jimmy's lives.  

I do agree with Borton on one thing. She points out in her Foreword that the Pollyanna philosophy has wrongly been labelled 'false optimism' by people who haven't bothered to ponder its meaning. Hear hear! Nothing has changed, Borton. The 21st century is full of modern, self-proclaimed experts who use the very name of Pollyanna as an insult for desperate and deluded minds who practice what we now call 'toxic positivity.' They obviously haven't read the books, or they'd know Pollyanna does no such thing. 

🌟🌟🌟   

Last up will be Pollyanna at Six Star Ranch, which is a flashback to Pollyanna's youth, a time period compressed by Eleanor H. Porter herself, in Pollyanna Grows Up. 

'Magic for Marigold' by Lucy Maud Montgomery

The eccentric Lesley family could not agree on what to name Lorraine's new baby girl even after four months. Lorraine secretly liked the name Marigold, but who would ever agree to such a fanciful name as that? When the baby falls ill and gentle Dr. M. Woodruff Richards saves her life, the family decides to name the child after the good doctor. But a girl named Woodruff? How fortunate that Dr. Richards's seldom-used first name turns out to be . . . Marigold! A child with such an unusual name is destined for adventure. It all begins the day Marigold meets a girl in a beautiful green dress who claims to be a real-life princess. . . .

MY THOUGHTS: 

A well-written Montgomery novel is always a pleasure to read, although this one starts off sadly. The baby heroine's father dies two weeks before her birth, her mother has barely recovered from her grief, and the clan gathers together to choose her name. As little Marigold grows up in her dead father's family nest, she brings much-needed sunshine and the story takes her to the cusp of adolescence in a series of the type of episode Montgomery writes so well.

In some ways, Marigold is a girl after my own heart, and in others she drives me nuts! 

Marigold's overriding trait is her innate belief that the world is a very 'int'resting' place, and she makes magic for herself with her thoughts and daydreams. It's a purely private skill since she often keeps quiet about what she mulls over, and thanks God for 'arranging it so that nobody knows what I think.' As a fellow secretive daydreamer from way back, I find Marigold more relatable than the far more sociable Anne Shirley, who bubbles out whatever she thinks to anyone within earshot. 

Life draws thoughts from Marigold which she's probably wise to conceal. She's bitterly jealous of the portrait of Clementine, her father's first wife, who was regarded as far more of a beauty than Marigold's mother. Marigold also has a pretend friend named Sylvia, who she senses is just a trifle too weird for most of her 'real' friends to wrap their heads around. And she throws an inner tantrum when she hears the rumour that her mother might marry the new minister, Mr Thompson. 

I can't help thinking in this instance, Marigold realises her attitude stinks. Loyalty to her dad surely can't be such a big factor, since he died before her birth. She just doesn't want her own little bubble to burst, and luckily for her, it doesn't. Yet I suspect Marigold would have caused a huge hassle for her poor mother if her worst fears had materialised. Judging by her extreme reaction when her grandma takes away the keys allowing her to 'visit' Sylvia, Marigold lacks the flexibility to take life's blows in her stride. 

(Honestly, who the heck languishes with grief to the point of death because they can't visit a pretend friend on the turf they've chosen? Even I found that overdrawn, and I was an intense, imaginative kid too. But unsurprisingly, the answer is the same person who resents the prospect of their mother finding renewed happiness with another man.)

But even though she's extremely manipulative in her passive-aggressive way, another thing that makes me sympathise with Marigold overall is her tendency to be a follower rather than a leader when it comes to her real life friends. Even though she has originality and imagination, she lacks the forcefulness to push herself forward, but that's okay. We can't all be chiefs, yet we can follow Marigold's example and stick up for ourselves when pushed too far. She shows we can have an agreeable nature without being a pushover. 

I like the string of droll, larger-than-life playmates who stream through Marigold's life and the funny ways in which her hang-ups tend to get resolved.

 Supporting adult characters are good. Marigold's mother, Lorraine, verges on the meek and downtrodden side, yet living as her stern mother-in-law's righthand man can't be easy without the solace of her husband's support. Notwithstanding, Lorraine does a fine job of parenting Marigold, suggesting that 'good enough' under challenging circumstances really does hit the mark.

Now, I don't consider myself a die-hard feminist, but I was miffed by the unspoken rule we see that women of the 1920s may occupy just one sphere at a time. Aunt Marigold begins the book as a brilliant doctor who saves at least one life while her medical peers remain baffled. Then when she marries Uncle Klon, it appears she must give it all up. What a waste of training and talent, potentially impacting many others apart from just herself. Thanks heavens we live a century later when the same woman can be a doctor as well as a wife and mother. 

This is probably my biggest bugbear of the whole book. I understand that a woman's role as family anchor was treated with great respect, and I always jump to Anne Blythe's  defense when people slam her for becoming 'just a housewife' instead of pursuing some idealistic literary career. But gee whiz, Uncle Klon and Aunt Marigold don't even have any kids! And she'd already put herself through medical school and set up a practice. Does she now devote the rest of her life to stroking his brow and folding his socks? 

I feel as if this book ends on a good note, just as 12-year-old Marigold is on the threshold of exploring new feelings, regarding a particular boy. If Montgomery had followed this stand-alone book with another story about Marigold's teen years and young womanhood, I would have gone straight onto that next.

As it is, this was a fun read. There's a lot to love about being transported back to an old world where rudimentary motor cars rumble alongside horse drawn buggies, every household hangs a photo of Queen Victoria on their wall, cake must always be on hand in case of unexpected guests, and fruitcake is stored in an airtight box beneath the spare room bed. Duties and responsibilities seem refreshingly slower-paced, yet we readers can sense the possible threat of tuberculosis hanging over each and every family. Reading this book encourages us to adopt the best of this 1920s era if we want to, without having to factor in the worst of it. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟

'Emil and the Detectives' by Erich Kastner

If Mrs Tischbein had known the amazing adventures her son Emil would have in Berlin, she'd never have let him go.

Unfortunately, when his seven pounds goes missing on the train, Emil is determined to get it back - and when he teams up with the detectives he meets in Berlin, it's just the start of a marvellous money-retrieving adventure . . .

A classic and influential story, Emil and the Detectives remains an enthralling read.

MY THOUGHTS:  

This is quite a cool little tale in which the main character is both victim and detective.

The book was on our shelves for years when I was little, yet I shunned it, assuming it to be a 'boys' book' purchased for my brother. In more recent years I've noticed it being celebrated as a kids' classic, and early juvenile detective story, being published in 1929. It seems the young target audience in Germany couldn't get enough of Emil, so his fame spread to the English speaking world. 

At the outset, we're told that our conscientious young hero, Emil Tischbein, is 'not a prig' since he has to make a concerted effort to be good, just as some people try to give up indulging in sweets or going too often to the pictures. (And we 21st century readers may add social media addiction.) This transparency and thoughtfulness makes young Emil instantly likeable. He understands his mother's ongoing costs-of-living worries and is willing to do his bit to help. 

So 10-year-old Emil lives with his widowed mother who struggles to make ends meet as a hairdresser. One day he embarks on a train journey to visit his grandmother, aunt, uncle, and cousin in the big city of Berlin. His mother sends some hard-earned cash for Grandmother, which Emil pins to the inside of his jacket pocket, anxious not to lose it. In spite of all his precautions, the train's motion lulls him to sleep and Emil wakes up to discover he's been robbed. 

He has a fair idea who the thief is. The sleazy Herr Grundeis who shares his carriage seems the type of man who would sink low enough to rob a young boy snoozing on a train. Hardly knowing what recourse he ought to take, Emil hops off the train several stations too early to trail the scoundrel, lugging his suitcase and a colorful bouquet, also from his mother to his grandmother. These have become iconic props of the story, which I believe represent different aspects of Emil's character. The suitcase indicates his unfamiliarity with the overwhelming cosmopolitan environment, while the flowers signify his love and loyalty to family.

Emil enlists the help of some lively, unlikely comrades to help catch the thief. They are several city boys his own age who consider themselves to be running their own, thrown-together detective agency. And the author, Kastner, cleverly weaves himself into the story down the track. 

When Emil's city family find out what's happening, his girl cousin, Pony Hutchen, comes to help. Some modern readers may think Pony's input dates the story as anti-feminist, since she proudly offers to look after the boys with coffee and rolls. However, I'd never classify Pony as a willing drudge. For starters, she's wise and resourceful, also doing plenty of other cool stuff such as speeding around on her bicycle and giving sage advice. And the hospitality/care role she takes upon herself undeniably makes everyone's lives far easier and more pleasant, so taking offence on Pony's behalf from our enlightened stance may be levelling uncalled for criticism at a worthy industry. She doesn't have a servant mentality. Rather, she has wisdom and forethought.

The simple theme is to never underestimate kid savvy and strength in numbers. Proving the crime turns out to be an ingenious brain wave on Emil's part. Altogether, it's a fun story, hugely action driven and fast-paced. If kids their age ever really had the freedom to go racing around all over the city, I think stranger danger became more of a thing in later decades.

It's not really a detective story as such, since everyone knows full well who the villain is. It's more of a high-speed chase. 

An underlying theme is the value of money, and sad chasms between the rich and poor. Nothing much has changed. Here's a bit of dialogue between Emil and one of his new friends, a boy who's dubbed, 'the Professor.'

Emil: Are your people well off?

Professor: I don't really know. Nobody ever talks about money.

Emil: Then I expect you have plenty. 

I followed this up by watching the film of the same name from the 1960s, which adds a huge number of changes to make it even more dramatic, one of my pet eyerolls. 

 🌟🌟🌟½

I'll soon follow up this review with its sequel, Emil and the Three Twins.